


It's Only Business

by FrankieAlton



Category: Captain Planet and the Planeteers
Genre: Backstory, Character Study, Gen, Pre-Canon, Villains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-24
Updated: 2011-06-24
Packaged: 2017-10-20 16:52:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/214940
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrankieAlton/pseuds/FrankieAlton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A look into Looten Plunder's past, and what led him to become an Eco-Villain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Only Business

Looten Plunder sped down Interstate 95 in his new dark green Corvette, watching indifferently as the speedometer pushed past 80 miles per hour and then past 90. Hopefully there weren’t too many police out at this early hour of the morning. He had left his apartment in Manhattan around 3 a.m. headed south to New Jersey, to the industrial plants located along the I-95 corridor.

He was feeling tired, but the anticipation of the potential fortune to be made was enough to keep him alert. He had been pushing himself hard since graduating Harvard with his MBA just over a year ago. He worked long hours at his job with an investment bank, trying to make an impression among the Wall Street elite. He had managed to be minimally more successful than the other newcomers, but it was not nearly enough for him.

Looten Plunder didn’t want to be just another millionaire. He wanted to be a billionaire. He didn’t want just a mansion. He wanted a mansion in Beverly Hills, a penthouse in New York and another in Miami for the winter, and a villa in Tuscany. He wanted yachts and a private jet and bodyguards. He wanted to be rich and powerful. He wanted people to respect him, and if not respect then fear. In his mind they were close enough.

People liked to tell him that he should be happy with where he was. For someone in his mid-twenties he was admittedly quite successful. He made a six digit salary, he had a luxury apartment in New York city, and an expensive sports car. Other people would be completely satisfied with that. But he wasn’t. He wanted more than that. He wasn’t like other people; he was better than them. He deserved more than them.

And it was completely selfish, and he had no problem with that. Well, perhaps it wasn’t one hundred percent selfish. There was his nephew Robin to consider. He actually did spend a good deal of his income to take care of Robin, mostly to send him to an elite, and expensive, private school. He would be damned if he let his only relative, and quite possibly the only other person in the world he cared about besides himself, attend some sub-par public high school.

But Robin would be an adult in a few years, and seeing as how Plunder did not have a wife and kids, or any plans on acquiring such a thing any time in the near future, he was making this money for himself.

He finally reached his exit, and turned off of I95, headed for the industrial section of Camden located along the Delaware River. He was meeting his contact in a factory, though he wasn’t exactly sure why. He would have preferred a restaurant or café- in the daytime- but this seemed to be how the man did business. Plunder felt rather leery about it, but he trusted the man who had set this up enough to give it a shot.

Plunder started to feel a little uneasy as he drove through the neglected streets of downtown Camden. He figured he probably looked quite suspicious, traveling through such a crime-ridden area this time of the day in his very expensive car. The nervousness seemed to increase as he got closer to the riverfront, as the number of boarded up and condemned houses seem to rise with every block he passed.

Finally he reached the address, though the factory looked as if it were just as abandoned as most of the other buildings in that area. He parked his car, and considered for a moment that perhaps he should just turn around and head back to New York. After a moment he managed to get his emotions in check. He had made it this far, he wasn’t going to back down now. He knew he had to do whatever it took to succeed in life, and he wouldn’t let simple things like fatigue or emotions get in the way of accomplishing his goals.

Plunder recoiled a little as he stepped out of his air-conditioned car into the humid summer air. It was late August, and even though the sun had not yet risen it was already quite hot outside. He took a deep breath and found himself choking. The air was thick and oppressive, full of chemicals from the perpetual smoke rising into the sky from the myriad of factories located along the river. The smoke obscured the stars, and the city lights reflecting off of it illuminated the sky in an unnatural orange tint. It was exactly what one would expect for an area full of manufacturing and chemical plants, and though it was not necessarily pleasant, it didn’t really bother him either. It was the smell of industry, of money being made.

He coughed a little harshly, his lungs attempting to adjust to the bitter and acrid air. It’s not as if the air quality were much better in New York City, but here there was more than just car exhaust, there was the distinct smell of sulfur as well as other industrial byproducts. On top of that, the early morning haziness seemed to cause the pollutants to linger near the earth, rather than dissipating into the atmosphere.

Plunder headed for a gate in the neglected chain link fence. He pulled a neatly folded piece of paper from his pocket that had a series of numbers inscribed on it.

He entered the combination he had been given, and after a forceful tug the rusted lock unlatched. He slowly pushed open the heavy fence, wincing as he heard the rusty hinges creak. The sound was rather grating, especially in the eerie quiet of the early morning.

Plunder felt a little out of place as he walked cautiously through the industrial compound. He was dressed in a black Armani suit, well tailored and freshly dry-cleaned. His shirt was crisp and bright white, his shoes nicely polished. He looked just like any other new graduate with an MBA working on Wall Street, he thought with a little disdain. Blending in wasn’t the way to get ahead.

He walked through the compound until he found a place to wait that seemed innocuous enough. He leaned against a railing under a dim security lamp and folded his arms across his chest.

He was starting to sweat a little as he waited for the man he was supposed to be meeting here. It was not nervousness, he told himself, just the sticky summer heat. He considered taking off his jacket and tie, but he knew he wouldn’t really do it. He needed to look presentable to the man he was going to meet. This man had a lot of money, and power, and could help Plunder get what he wanted.

Plunder ran his fingers through his thick, auburn hair which was starting to get a little long. He had kept it short while in college, mostly because of professors who insisted that a man with long hair would not be taken seriously in the business world. But now that he was past the world of academia and into the “real” world he felt like growing it out again. To hell with what people thought. He planned on becoming rich enough that superficial things like that wouldn’t matter a bit.

As he waited he thought about the man who had arranged this meeting. His name was Hoggish Greedly, and Plunder had met him while he was in college. Greedly was a couple of years older than him, and was already a senior when Plunder entered college. Somehow they had been introduced, and Greedly for some reason had taken a liking to him.

It wasn’t as if Plunder disliked him, he just had not really cared about making friends. Plunder had worked his ass off to get into Harvard and he had big plans for his life. He spent most of his free time studying, trying to get ahead of everyone else. Greedly, on the other hand, had gotten into Harvard because his father had bribed- or perhaps threatened- the right people. Greedly spent his days partying, hardly caring about making good grades. He was the only son of an only son, and all of the family fortune would be his one day. He had no reason to really work too hard.

It was when Plunder realized that Greedly came from a mafia family that he started to take an interest in associating with him. Plunder knew that such a connection could prove useful in the future and he decided it would be worthwhile to cultivate a relationship. The two of them had communicated infrequently over the past several years, until a few weeks ago when Greedly had contacted him claiming that he had a proposition for him that could make a fortune.

At first Plunder had feigned disinterest. He was not quite certain about the idea, and he wanted to drag a few more details out of Greedly before things went any further. Greedly had predictably been a little vague with the specifics, as the enterprise was probably quite illegal. But he had called Plunder daily, luring him in with promises of huge amounts of money to be made.

Somehow Greedly knew, Plunder thought with a scowl. Greedly knew that he wasn’t satisfied working 9 to 5 for a corporation, making money for someone else. Plunder didn’t want just a good life, he wanted it all. And he wanted to be the one calling the shots. Greedly had pressed all of the right buttons, and it irritated Plunder a little, the thought that he had been played. But at the same time he was immensely curious as to what this meeting would entail. Plunder had flirted with the idea of being involved in “less than legitimate” business for a while. But he really had no idea how to get started in that world. Hopefully this meeting would hold the key.

Plunder straightened up as he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. He drew in a deep breath and prepared himself for the meeting. Greedly was supposed to be accompanied only by his father, though Plunder wondered if there would be other men hiding in the shadows. That actually was probably highly likely, and Plunder wondered a bit belatedly if he should have brought a gun. Of course, he doubted that it would do him any good if he had to face off against mafia hitmen. It wasn’t as if he were out of shape or weak, but he also didn’t have any training or experience in self defense. Yet another reason to be rich enough to hire a bodyguard- or several, for that matter.

“Ah, Looten!” Greedly exclaimed a little too loudly as he approached. Plunder flinched a little at the sudden sound. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you, buddy!”

Before Plunder had a chance to respond Greedly grabbed him in a hug that was just a little too tight.

“Yeah, it’s, um… good to see you too…” Plunder managed to choke out eventually.

Greedly released him after a minute. “Looten Plunder, I’d like to introduce you to my father… Hoggish Greedly Senior…”

The elder Greedly extended his hand and Plunder shook it firmly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir,” Plunder said politely.

Greedly Senior smiled. “My son has spoken quite highly of you, Mr. Plunder. He seems to think you’re a very smart man.”

“Really?” Plunder said dryly, shooting Greedly a curious glance. “That’s not what he used to say in college. I believe the phrase he used then was ‘nerdy loser with no life’.”

Greedly laughed loudly, in his usual snorting manner. “Oh come on, that was years ago, we were just kids. You know I was just joking, right?”

Plunder grinned a little wickedly. “Oh, I know…” Plunder noticed that Greedly Senior seemed amused by their banter. That was a good sign. Plunder reasoned that doing business with the mafia would be a little different that doing business with corporate executives. The mafia was looking for people that they could trust, people who could become part of the “family,” not just men in suits with fancy degrees.

“Well, I’m sure you two are glad to see each other again, but we should really get down to business. I know we are all busy men,” Greedly Senior said amicably. “But let’s go inside, it’s hot out here.”

Plunder nodded in agreement and silently followed the two Greedlys into the building. They both resembled each other, in their faces and in their bodies. Plunder noticed that Greedly had put on quite a few pounds since college, not that he had exactly been in top shape back then. The two of them walked very slowly, almost annoyingly so. Plunder was used to moving fast. He worked on Wall Street, people didn’t just amble around. But he was not about to offend them, so he matched their pace and pretended not to be bothered by it.

After being led down several darkened corridors, they arrived at a rather well furnished conference room. Greedly Senior flipped the light switch and Plunder squinted at the sudden brightness of the fluorescent lighting. When his eyes managed to adjust to the light he noticed that the table in the center of the room was covered with quite a bit of food. Though he couldn’t imagine why they would need so much food at barely 5 a.m. in the morning.

“Hungry?” Greedly asked, motioning to the table.

Plunder shook his head. “No. I’m fine.”

“No?” Greedly asked, as if he were a little confused by the answer. “Ok. Well then, have a seat so we can talk business.”

Plunder sat down silently, thankful that this room was air conditioned. He watched as the two Greedlys helped themselves to the spread set out on the table. It was slightly appalling, how much food they managed to consume so quickly. Of course, Plunder realized, he could probably stand to eat a little more himself. Breakfast was a foreign concept to him, lunch was whatever he could consume the fastest so he could get back to work.

Plunder fought back the urge to drum his fingers impatiently on the table. As eager as he was to get to the point of this meeting he felt that he shouldn’t be too insistent. He would let them lead the conversation, at least for now.

Finally it appeared that the Greedly’s had had enough to eat. “So what do you think of this factory, Looten?” Greedly asked conversationally.

“It’s… well, it’s pretty typical for a factory I suppose,” Plunder answered, not sure what to make of such a question.

“It was a great factory. Until it got shut down for making too much pollution.” Greedly scoffed, as if the notion were utterly ridiculous.

“I see.” Plunder said simply. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Indeed it is,” Greedly Senior replied. “We’re losing a lot of money right now with this factory just sitting idle. We would love to get things rolling again.”

Plunder cocked his eyebrow slightly. “Certainly you didn’t call me all of the way out here in the middle of the night because you need someone to manage a factory. You don’t need an MBA from Harvard to do that.”

“It’s a little more… complicated… than that,” the man explained.

“Really?” Plunder said dryly, folding his arms across his chest.

Greedly grinned. He took a large bite of some sort of pastry before responding. “I noticed that you took quite a few law classes when you were at Harvard. A little unusual for an Econ major…” he said.

“And? What of it?” Plunder replied tonelessly, wondering where this was headed.

“People don’t just take law classes at Harvard for the hell of it. Those classes are damn hard. So what was your goal?”

Plunder frowned a little. Greedly was good at reading people. Plunder had thought Greedly just spent his entire college career inebriated and oblivious, but he knew what he was doing. Greedly might not have been much on academics, but he knew how to network. Not surprising actually, considering his mafia heritage.

“Well?” Greedly asked after a moment of silence.

“I figured it would be useful to understand the law. To know what I could do… or couldn’t do…”

“To know what you could get away with?” Greedly clarified. His father grinned knowingly.

“Yes, that too.” Plunder replied. It actually was true. He enjoyed finding loopholes, finding ways to do things that seemed as if they should be wrong, or even were wrong in an ethical sense, but legally were completely acceptable. It gave him a strange sense of satisfaction to know that he could work completely within the system but still do whatever he wanted.

“It’s okay,” Greedly Senior said. “You can be honest with us. We have no problem with someone who can work the law to his advantage. In fact, we rather appreciate that quality in our associates.”

Plunder relaxed a little, feeling that he was in the company of people that he could be honest with. Well honest with his moral stances at least. He didn’t have to pretend to care about useless things like helping the community or protecting the environment- the sort of things that corporations had to feign interest in these days in order to maintain public approval.

“So does this all make sense now? Do you see what we’re after, Mr. Plunder?” The elder Greedly asked.

Plunder nodded slowly. “I believe so.”

“We need this factory to turn a profit,” Greedly explained. “We’re not interested in retro-fitting it or installing any sort of new equipment. We want to make money, not spend money. We need someone who can find the legal loopholes necessary to keep it running exactly as it is.” Greedly slid a non-descript manila folder across the table to him.

Plunder looked over the information quickly. It actually shouldn’t be terribly difficult. He had studied quite a bit of business law while he was in college, and though he had not really delved much into environmental law it shouldn’t take him too long to read through the legal code and find the loopholes he needed. He already understood the convoluted legal wording used by the government, and he knew how to twist it to his advantage.

“I don’t think that what you are asking would be impossible to pull off. It would require being a little… sneaky…” he answered cautiously.

“I have no problems with being sneaky,” Greedly answered. “In fact, I think being sneaky is great!” he added, snorting loudly in laughter.

Greedly’s father was much more restrained in his reaction. “There are some problems. The EPA could become involved…”

“Screw the EPA,” Plunder hissed, sounding a little more virulent than he had intended. Both Greedlys looked at him with surprise.  
Plunder himself even felt somewhat surprised. He laughed a little sheepishly. “Heh. Well, what I mean is… I really think the government needs to stay out of people’s business. I mean, nature is great, but nature can take care of itself. There’s no need to interfere with private enterprise.”

Greedly Senior smiled. “You sound like a man after my own heart.”

Plunder grinned slyly. “I don’t let anything stand between me and accomplishing my dreams. Not even government agencies.”

“I told you he’d be perfect for this,” Greedly said. His father nodded in agreement.

“Well since I’m obviously so fit for this job, why don’t you tell me what’s in it for me?” Plunder asked, leaning back slightly in his chair and studying them both through expressionless eyes.

Greedly Senior chuckled. “Of course. I certainly wouldn’t expect you to take on a project such as this with less than adequate compensation.” His words were spoken like a true mafia don. He scribbled a figure onto a piece of paper, folded it in half and slid it across the table.

Plunder unfolded the paper slowly and tried not to react to the very large number that was written on it. With that amount of cash he could quit the banking business and go into business for himself. Be his own boss. All he had to do was this one job for the Greedly’s and he’d be in a position to do the all things he really wanted to do.

“So what do you think?” Greedly Senior asked with a broad smile.

“I think I need a day or two to consider it,” Plunder answered neutrally. He was actually already mostly convinced, but he was smart enough not to be pushed into making any hasty decisions, especially regarding business of this sort.

“Of course, of course…” he answered amicably. “No need to rush into things. You take a few days to think it over and I’ll arrange another meeting for us to discuss your decision.”

“You don’t suppose we could meet somewhere a little nicer next time,” Plunder asked. “A restaurant perhaps?”

Greedly snorted enthusiastically. “Sounds great!”

His father looked slightly exasperated. “How about Windows on the World? It should be fairly convenient for you.”

Plunder nodded. The upscale restaurant located on the top floor of the World Trade Center would not only be convenient, but also the kind of place where he would feel at home. “Sounds good to me.”

“But, Dad!” Greedly whined. “You have to wear a jacket to eat there!”

His father sighed a little and Plunder tried to conceal his smirk.

“I’ll make a reservation for Friday evening. I’ll see you then,” Greedly Senior said, extending his hand toward Plunder.

Plunder shook the other man’s hand firmly. “I’ll be there. And if you don’t mind, I should probably get going. I wouldn’t want to be late for work.” There was a note of wry humor in the last part of his response, laced with just a hint of disdain.

Greedly Senior nodded, a knowing grin on his face, and Plunder took it as a sign that he was free to go.

Plunder turned and stepped out of the office into the stale, humid air of the factory. He made his way back to the parking lot, his mind swimming with all the possibilities that now lay ahead. He was so lost in thought that he barely seemed to notice the sticky summer heat that had seemed so oppressive earlier.

He made it back to his car quickly and hopped inside, turning the air conditioning up to its highest setting and enjoying the blast of frigid air. He didn’t drive away immediately, however. He was still mulling over everything that had happened in the last hour. Did he really want to get involved in this venture? If he did, he would be traveling down a path that he doubted would be easy to turn back from, if it were even possible to turn back at all. He would be choosing a course that offered the potential for amazing rewards, but also held the potential for terrible consequences.

It was not too difficult for him to silence the few thoughts that told him he would be doing something wrong. To him ethics, morals and religion had no place in the world of business. Business was simply about numbers and figures, contracts and legal wording. There was no personal aspect to what he did. He wasn’t out to harm anyone. He also wasn’t out to help anyone. He just did what needed to be done, in the most efficient and profitable manner possible.  
Also in this instance it was not as if he was going to do something that hadn’t already been done. The area around Camden was already heavily polluted, it’s not like a bit more would really make that much of a difference. And if he didn’t do it, someone else would. It was just a matter of when and who. It was going to happen regardless of his decision.

He relaxed a little as he considered his justifications. He wasn’t a bad person. He wasn’t doing this because he wanted to hurt anybody. He just wanted to make money, and actually he would be helping other people make money in the process. The factory would provide jobs for people, including quite a few positions for unskilled laborers, the kinds of jobs people around here needed. If anything, this would help the local economy.

Yes, he was doing the right thing, he thought. Maybe not everyone would see it that way, but then again he had never really cared much about other  
people’s opinions, especially when it came to his life.

It was just past 6 a.m. now and the sky was turning a bright shade of pink at the horizon. He still had plenty of time to get back to his office at the World Trade Center by 9. He could probably even make it by 8:30, if he really tried. He tended to always be early, he wanted to make a good impression. Though at the moment he hardly cared about impressing his superiors. One day he would be far more rich and powerful than all of them.

He grinned smugly as he put his Corvette into gear and pulled slowly out of the parking lot onto the dingy city streets. As he headed back to New York he wasn’t thinking about pollution or industry or legal loopholes. He barely noticed the graffiti covered, derelict buildings that lined the ragged streets. He was too occupied thinking about how he would trade his Corvette in for a Ferrari soon. And debating whether or not he should trade in his boring black suits for something more fun. And deciding that he was going to grow his hair out.

To hell with what people thought.


End file.
